


Observations

by Wassereis



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub Undertones, Investigations, M/M, Overstimulation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stalking, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28261122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wassereis/pseuds/Wassereis
Summary: In this realm, everyone has to make their own entertainment.Danny wants to break Michael's stoic demeanor.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Michael Myers
Comments: 5
Kudos: 127
Collections: Dead by Baelight Secret Santa 2020





	Observations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starrynightdreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrynightdreams/gifts).



> This is for the Secret Santa event from the Dead by Baelight server and for my lovely girl Rea. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this ♥

The entity gives all of them a place to stay between trials.

Well, most of them.

He's sometimes a little sad that he doesn't have a place of his own. When he's doing good for the lady upstairs he's lucky if he can even find his rewards randomly in the realms or in the woods in between.

Keeping track of his belongings is also not easy.

He used to stay with Amanda, but the screeching of the machines gives him headaches and the smell of rot clinging to the fabric of his clothes is making him nauseous.

But she let him have a room on the lower level of the plant. It was damp, but it was a place to keep his things.

One day while roaming around his favorite realm he had discovered that even if the entity is not perfect, the space behind the plywood of the abandoned house wasn't just  _nothingness_ , but actually a dusty, almost empty house. 

The wallpaper is peeling off and the wooden floors are crumbling under his boots, but it's dry and smells only of dust.

So, as of recently, he has moved in.

The only problem currently is the other resident of the realm. Danny watches him through the gaps in the plywood often, standing in his childhood bedroom, staring out the window into the street as if there is anything to see.

The scene always stays the same, the only sounds are the crows that sit in the trees and on the old rusty jungle gym.

Maybe he is just thinking or reminiscing about the past, but the way he clutches his knife with white knuckles makes Danny think it might be about that one survivor that came with him.

The entity also gives some of them their own survivors to kill, to be obsessed with.

But not for Danny, he has to find his own obsessions.

The survivors had been interesting when he had first started out here and he still watches the new ones, but they are all just scared little things, even under all that bravado they are what the entity made them; lambs for the slaughter.

Now he's more interested in the other killers. Especially in Michael.

Danny presses his face against the plywood, catches a glimpse of him climbing the stairs to the porch of his childhood home.

He can't even hear his footsteps in the dry leaves. It's exhilarating how quiet he is despite the sheer mass of his body.

One time early on they had come face to face; or rather mask to mask and Danny regrets he hadn't seared it into his memory then, but he remembers how he had to crane his neck to look into the dark holes of his mask, the eerie pale eyes behind them.

Michael had overtowered him, his arms and shoulders sturdy and casting a shadow over Danny.

He probably could break Danny's spine with his bare hands. Danny almost wants him to, just to see that raw strength.

It's just that he never loses control like that. His knife always his weapon of choice, sinking deep into his victims with precision. He wields it like an extension of his body.

Michael truly is a killing machine and Danny is his biggest fan.

The urge to get closer and play has been festering in his mind for quite a while now. He hates to admit it, but watching Michael do literally nothing for endless amounts of time is starting to annoy him.

Time isn't really a thing here in this place, so he can't say how long Michael stands there, staring into the empty street. Sometimes Danny gets so bored he takes a nap, even though he doesn't really  _need_ the sleep, and when he checks again Michael is still standing at his window, not having moved an inch. 

It irks him that someone he admires that much isn't doing  _anything_ . Danny is always full of nervous energy, he likes to be productive. Sure, he can sit still and stalk for hours, but he's watching someone and learning valuable information. 

By now he can see Michael again, standing at his window, blood from the trial still splattered over his coveralls, staring out to the street. Danny scratches his nails over the plywood in annoyance, a splinter digs under his nail and he hisses quietly.

He has to do something to make Michael do something, lose all that stupid stoic thing he has going on and see what he is capable of.

He has heard enough stories about Michael Myers, the Shape, in his days on earth. How he had killed countless people after his escape from the asylum. More myth than man and he had vanished without a trace, which made him even more infamous.

Where is that killer now?

Michael is staring into the street and a crow takes off into the sky, he doesn't move. Something needs to be done about that.

Danny creeps into Michael's house just after he leaves for a trial. He doesn't leave for any other reason ever, so he has some time until the Shape will come back, even with his quick and efficient killing in trials.

As assumed, the front door is unlocked as it always is and he walks around the lower level first. The living and dining room furniture is covered in white sheets with dust collecting on the yellowing fabric.

He lifts some of them to find old equally dusty furniture and nothing special. The kitchen is obviously unused as well, which isn't a surprise with Michael spending every free second in his room.

He walks upstairs slowly, every step muffled by a once light blue carpet. There are several bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs.

He just spares a quick glance in every room until he reaches the closed door to Michael's room.

It's noticeably less dusty than the rest of the house. There is a dark brown wooden dresser, a small build-in closet and a single bed. Danny imagines Michael on the small mattress for a second and snickers at the idea of his large frame on the small bed, his legs pulled to his chest. It's impossible for him to fit there comfortably.

He goes through the dresser next, careful not to move things around, least of all Michael notice it. There are a large amount of tight fit black t shirts, which after closer inspection, would still look baggy on Danny.

The next two drawers are empty and then there are some socks in the lowest drawer, all neatly rolled up next to each other.

The assortment is a little weird because the closet is empty except for a few bent hangers as well.

Danny takes his mask off in the privacy of the empty house, brown strands falling into his eyes. There has to be something here that hints at something that is important to Michael, other than his knife.

He sets his mask on the dresser absentmindedly while he walks over to  _the_ window. There are no shoe imprints in the faded blue carpet, but he wouldn't have been surprised if there were. 

Danny inspects the windowsill, but there is nothing special. The paint on the frame is cracked and chips of it are on the carpet underneath the window.

He straightens and tries to imitate the position he has seen Michael take so many times. Then he looks out of the window. The glass is dirty, above Danny's eye level there is a portion that looks like someone cleaned it with a piece of cloth or a sleeve, dust and grime wiped away to allow a clear view into the dark street.

There really isn't anything to see, he glances left and right without moving his head and he can see his boarded-up window from the corner of his eyes.

Danny is pretty sure that Michael hasn't spotted him ever, he would have felt it, right?

He has to admit that his elevated position gives him a good view of the street to both sides as he spots Michael stalk down the walkway, straight path to this very house, this very room.

How fast had he gutted those survivors?!

Danny ducks before Michael spots him and scrambles back into the room to put his mask back on. He quickly checks the room to make sure it's just as it had been, walks back into the hall, closes the door and slips into the next room over.

It's the bathroom and he tries to breathe shallowly, can't hear a fucking thing in the hall or even the front door. Michael is too damn quiet for him to assess where in the house he is.

Danny's heart is beating wildly, pulse hammering in his veins, the rushing so loud he thinks Michael could possibly hear him sneaking around in his territory through the solid door.

After the door stays closed and untouched after several tense minutes he manages to steady his breathing and leans against the wall adjacent to Michael's room. He can hear some rustling from the room, hears the drawer being opened and closed, just a few footsteps, then nothing.

He waits for several minutes more, but there's only silence.

As he opens the door with bated breath he nearly expects Michael to stand right in front of him, but the hall is empty and the door to Michael's room is closed. He thanks his lucky stars and creeps down the stairs, out the front door and walks the porch all the way to the left side so Michael won't see him from the window.

The next time he dares to go back into the house is quite sometime later. He has been through several trials and even gotten a new outfit. The red mask and horns are pretty cool, but the original is still his favorite.

Michael also has gotten a new outfit, but seeing him jerkily stalk down the sidewalk in a billowing hospital gown and a lead pipe instead of his knife he didn't seem too happy with the entity's choice.

The next time he's back in coveralls and with his knife.

Danny creeps back into the house and makes his way upstairs right away. This time he takes the time he has to inspect the master bedroom. It's actually quite nice with a big bed that looks very comfortable and much nicer than Michael's room.

The dresser and closet are completely empty, but as he goes through the drawer of the vanity he finds some old faded photos.

One is of the back of the house, trees in full bloom and laundry on a line in the background. There is a young boy sitting in the grass, playing with a toy firetruck.

Danny tries to think about Michael's family if he had any brothers, but there is nothing in his memory. The boy in the picture could very well be Michael himself.

There's another picture of the same boy, a little older and a girl around 16, both are looking a little awkward like one does if asked to pose and smile for a picture. He squints and tries to imagine what Michael looks like right now, grown up from the boy in the picture.

It's impossible and he carefully picks up the next picture as he  _feels_ something and he almost tells himself he imagined it, but he turns around slowly.

Michael is standing in the open doorway, watching him. Danny freezes and Michael doesn't move either but for him, it's more of a default.

His mask obviously shows nothing of his emotions and Danny can't tell what to expect. The only thing that comes to him at that moment is nonchalance.

'Heh. Michael. Hey.' He lifts both hands, showing he's unarmed and tries to defuse the situation at hand. That Michael neither moves nor makes a sound unnerves him.

'I'll just leave, mh?' He puts the photos back in the drawer and closes it slowly. The other man should be able to see that he didn't steal anything.

He steps forward, arms still raised and the closer he gets to Michael, the more his sheer size comes into Danny's focus.

Michael's frame is filling the entire doorway, the hairs of his mask actually touching the top of the door frame. His arms are tense, biceps straining against his dark blue coveralls and the wooden frame.

Danny gets slower with each step towards the only way out of the room.

'Just let me get out of your hair.' Fear is prickling at his skin as he cranes his neck, standing just out of range of the monster. He has to go past Michael, or he won't get out.

His hand twitches nervously towards the sheath on his thigh. Danny is quick and agile, but he's trapped in this bedroom with Michael between him and freedom.

There's nowhere for him to dodge or run here and the only way out is Michael letting him go.

He swallows nervously, glad Michael can't see his face and steps forward, in arms range. When he isn't grabbed right away he gains a little confidence and walks closer until they are feet apart.

His neck is starting to hurt from looking up the whole time and since Michael hasn't attacked him yet he decides to lower his gaze and look straight ahead.

Michael's overalls are partially undone and he's looking at a tight black shirt over his impressive pecs. He sees the first movement from Michael, his chest rising and falling barely noticeable.

Danny suppresses a shiver and decides to rather have neck pain than look at the killer's chest. Michael's head tilts to the side and Danny always thought the gesture was widely overdone and cringy. Now with empty dark eyeholes of the infamous mask staring at him with the head tilt he nearly takes a step back, his muscles seizing up.

This is not good. And even though he has predicted that this wasn't a good situation to be in and the danger coming off from Michael he still flinches as a huge hand closes around his throat.

As his air is cut off he can hear Michael's breathing get heavier as his hand tightens around his throat.

'Fuck.' He croaks out and tries to kick at him, but even as his boots connect with Michael's shin he doesn't seem affected at all. His fingers dig into Michael's arm and hand, trying to pry him off.

Generally, they should be equally matched in strength, but he can't do anything in his current position.

He's getting light-headed and thinks the low groan he hears as the kitchen knife drags over his chest could be in his imagination. It's getting harder to fight the tight grasp he's trapped in and he looks over the man that is starting to lift him until he hanging by his throat.

It's very impressive that Michael is holding his whole weight up with just his left arm. Danny's vision starts to swim and his hands fall away and to his sides weakly.

God, this is going to suck, but he kind of deserves it for being so careless.

For a second he hopes Michael will just strangle him, but then he feels the searing hot pain of the knife slicing through his skin, under his ribs and puncturing his lung and scraping bone.

He groans in pain and pitifully tries to escape the hand and the knife, but it's too late. He can feel blood filling his lungs, soaking his cloak and suddenly Michael's hand goes lax, drops him unceremoniously.

He's looking up at Michael, blood a large puddle around him already and he's so tall he fills his entire vision.

His lungs are trying to take gulping breaths with gurgling sounds as he watches Michael look down at him dying while he's palming his crotch.

There's a tired grin spreading on Danny's face as he slowly lets himself succumb to the drowning in his own blood. He should have known that even Michael isn't as stoic as everyone perceives him to be.

Then he dies.

He floats around in darkness and the entity is mocking him for a while before he wakes with a start, back in his mended body.

He's somewhere in the endless forest, his clothes damp and cold from the ground. As if dying a painful death isn't enough punishment.

The way back to Haddonfield isn't hard to find, but he just wants to lie down and forget the phantom pain of the stab wound in his chest. He walks back slowly, rubs his sternum and takes slow deliberate breaths to remind himself that his lungs are working just fine again.

He drags his feet over the concrete walkway and kicks at the fallen leaves as he walks past Lampkin Lane 1250. As he turns his gaze upwards Michael is standing at his window and tilts his head slowly as Danny walks by to his house. It sends a shiver down his spine, but he's not intimidated that easily.

He gives Michael the finger and rounds the hedge to get to his dusty mattress on the dusty floor.

What he wouldn't give for the soft-looking bed next to where his blood had soaked into the carpet in the master bedroom. He flops down on his mattress and rips his mask off, throws it to the floor next to him.

It isn't the first time he's died, memories of the hillbilly sawing him in half and the plague's sickness' fever cooking his insides still fresh in his mind. It won't be the last time either, he knows that.

Still, he likes to avoid death as much as possible because it's painful and the entity laughing and mocking him is humiliating.

He frowns at the boarded-up window, can practically see Michael standing at his window. Danny had obviously shown that he has taken residence in the abandoned house, but he somehow has a feeling Michael knew all along. Maybe he's just touchy with his own house and doesn't actually mind Danny being here.

But what does he have to hide? Danny had already seen the pictures, so why did Michael kill him? Was it over the picture or just the invasion of his privacy?

Objectively there is nothing different from Michael's house to the rest of the houses on the street. It's all just empty rooms, old furniture and dust.

He closes his eyes and drifts into a half-sleep. Michael touching himself at seeing him dying had been unexpected and marked almost a success for Danny. It's a loss of control for sure, a deeper insight into Michael Myers that the others don't have. That's all he wants; being the one who knows more than the others.

Michael is a special case, the knowledge about him that no one else has almost sacred because Danny still admires him for his stealth, his sheer physical strength and his stalking ability.

But he feels that there is more to him getting killed and Michael than meets the eye. And so far his gut feeling has never betrayed him, especially when he's stalking someone.

He just knows there is more, something he's missing and just needs to find out what it is.

Even though he tells himself that he's not scared of the behemoth of a man, he still steers clear of the Myer's house for quite some time.

The burning pain of a foreign object lodged between his ribs is still too fresh to go back for a repeat performance.

Instead, he checks the other houses on the street. Since his current residence actually exists behind boarded-up windows, the other houses should as well.

He finds a crowbar in the McMillian Estate and avoids the Trapper by moving carefully through the tall grass. Evan won't miss it, there are enough tools lying around that he never uses.

His precious workshop has everything he needs and Danny doesn't dare to touch anything in there. Even though Evan has a pretty mild temper, he had just chopped off Joey's legs for stealing a screwdriver from him not too long ago.

Danny has taken some pretty pictures of it, blood almost black in the moonlight and fingers digging into the dirt trying to crawl away.

But not for him, no thank you.

He's pretty sure the teenagers haven't learned their lesson, they never do. Frank is utterly reckless and the bunch of them constantly bored.

With the crowbar, it's easy to pry open the windows of the abandoned houses and rifle through the belongings of people who have no idea their houses exist in this other, brutal world.

There are a few houses that have nicer furniture and real beds, but he wants to stay close enough to Myers to watch him even though he craves the luxury of a soft mattress.

But he isn't doing all this out of boredom. He's on a mission of finding information.

Danny has come to the conclusion that the photo has to mean something. Obviously, a playing child isn't really important, so it has to be the mysterious girl in the picture  _with_ the boy. 

There is something there that he tries to remember, but it's that feeling of a word that is on the tip of your tongue, just out of reach.

It has something to do with the girl in the photo.

In the time they still go to trials and Michael watches him saunter by, Danny has determined that the place in time this street has appeared here must have been just after that fateful Halloween where Michael escaped and killed all those people.

There are dried bloodstains in some of the houses, bloody handprints on the door frames, painting clear pictures of struggles with deadly endings.

He's lucky that the entity hasn't brought the dead bodies in here as well. With everything kind of endlessly rotting under her care, he doesn't want to imagine the stench of the rotting flesh.

Currently, he is walking through one of the wealthier houses, old photos and books on the shelves of the living room. There's even an old TV but as he presses the power button it only shows snowy static.

He walks into the kitchen where a dusty kettle is still sitting on top of the stove as if someone made some tea and just left in the middle of it. Everything is just as dusty as the rest of the houses, but there is a newspaper lying on the kitchen table.

Danny sits down and picks it up. He doesn't skim through the pages yet, the front page already captures his interest.

The paper is from October 31 st, 1978 just as Danny had thought. It's the day of Michael Myers infamous return and the following bloodbath. 

The lead article is about the corn maze just outside of town and the other events for Halloween night.

Irrelevant and badly written at that, he would have done a much better job.

He turns the pages, skims through the articles until his eyes catch on a blurry picture of a brick building. There is a small description under the picture that reads  **Smith's Grove Sanitarium** and Danny starts reading the article. 

It's about Michael. 

The author gives the impression that they write an article like this every year, an update to the curious murder of Judith Margaret Myers by her six-year-old brother Michael Audrey Myers, who has been incarcerated in the asylum ever since.

Danny frowns about the treatment. It seems very excessive to keep a child locked up at all, let alone for 15 years. But he also knows that therapy wasn't something they did a lot in the 60s or even 70s in rural America.

It must have messed with Michael's head a lot to grow up in an institution. 

Danny is messed up all on his own, no real reason for that. But at least he had the chance to enjoy his childhood, even if he enjoyed unusual things like setting things on fire and break other kid's toys. 

Anyway, the article paints a picture of the devil in child form, unable to ever be rehabilitated and let back into society.

It describes how he had killed his older sister in cold blood and with no remorse.

She had to be the one in the picture, the one that started all this.

Danny leans back in the chair and stares at the picture of the asylum absentmindedly.

When he escaped Michael had to have been 21, but he looks older somehow, more like he's at least 30.

His hands look older and his body seems too imposing to belong to someone younger than Danny.

But he has never seen Michael's face, probably never will. Who knows, maybe he is just a very well build 21-year-old.

Things work differently here in this world, maybe Michael has been aged up to his most potential self or something.

Danny is pretty sure he has aged a few years from his vanishing in the real world and appearing here, he's now in his mid to late twenties when he had originally been 22.

But now that he is thinking about what he learned from a single bad article in the local newspaper, the memory of Michael's incarceration slots into place and it finally doesn't feel like he is missing that piece of information anymore he forgot.

From the paper alone it seems like Michael never really cared about his sister, but the photo hadn't looked like actual contempt, just like a normal family photo and Danny has seen thousands of those in people's homes, their wallets and under the sun shield in their cars. He knows when someone hates their family which is posing right next to them.

Michael didn't hate his sister, especially not at that age. It seems impossible for a six-year-old to really  _hate_ someone. Danny doesn't know how many times Michael stabbed his sister, but it could have been a lot of things that made him do it. 

It probably wasn't an accident though, not if he used a kitchen knife.

It intrigues him, but he can hardly ask Michael about it, can he?

He rips the page with the article from the rest of the paper, folds it and puts it in his pocket for keepsakes.

Maybe he can take a real look in Judith's room. It's probably the one with the light pink comforter, where the dust is even thicker, where Michael's mother has kept everything as it had been as a memorial to her dead daughter.

In hindsight, Michael's room doesn't look as kept, which could be Michael's own doing or just that his mother hadn't felt like she needed to keep his memory as intact as Judith's.

It's interesting to see the family's history broken open like this. He wonders if there is more darkness that brought the young Michael to kill his sister.

When he walks back and past Michael's window he's not there. It's almost weird to not see him standing there but he's probably in a trial right now.

Danny walks in through the back door that he had freed from plywood with the crowbar as well. That thing is really coming in handy.

His house is so empty that there isn't a single chair, just an old crate, a mattress and the bare bones of the kitchen cabinets are left from the real world.

He walks up to his room and takes his mask off as he climbs the stairs, thinking about Judith and Michael and their family.

As he enters his “bedroom” he stops in his tracks. There is something lying on his bare mattress.

He takes two more steps to discover that it's a photograph.

Slowly he picks it up and looks at the family photo. It's Michael, Judith and a young man.

The stranger in the picture has an arm slung around Judith's waist. She's wearing a pink dress with a large rose made of the same fabric at her waist, white gloves that go up to her elbows and a small bouquet of flowers around her wrist.

The young man is wearing a suit and tie, a flower pinned to his lapel and a square in the suit jacket.

They are obviously on their way to some dance and the young man seems to be Judith's boyfriend by the looks of it.

But the most curious thing is the way how adoring Michael is looking at the young man. His head is tilted up, completely ignoring Judith and his small fist is grasping the man's pant leg.

Danny feels that tingling feeling of being watched again and spins around, just to see Michael standing in the doorway to his room.

It's like a déjà vu and he backs up a little.

There's a weird feeling in the air and he takes a sharp breath, stares at Michael wide-eyed.

And as the air floods his lungs crisp and easily, he remembers that he's not wearing his mask.

That Michael can see him bared, open and vulnerable. He knows that Michael can see his brown hair, his brown eyes, the scar just left of his eye and he feels so exposed that he can only glare.

Michael is obviously still wearing his unreadable mask but it feels like he is watching intently as they are just standing there for several minutes.

It makes Danny want to fidget, put on his mask or turn around but he can't show weakness so he stands there glaring.

Michael suddenly just turns around and leaves, not even making a sound on the creaking stairs. Danny sags and takes a shuddering breath.

What does Michael want from him?

He lifts the picture again and looks at the stranger with brown hair, brown eyes and tan skin; just like Danny.

If asked, Danny could have sworn that this nagging feeling of pursuing this game of getting Michael to show anything but this just standing around would end with what transpired first when he had killed Danny and then when he had left his post just to leave a picture for him.

And at first it had been alright, he had done his thing again. He watches some of the other killers, that new survivor and tries not to think about Michael.

He hasn't been very successful. Sometimes when he comes back from a trial it feels like something is different, like there are more footsteps in the dust of his house, as if something lingers, left behind.

Danny is pretty sure that Michael breaks into his house when he's not around. Not that there is much breaking involved, it's more of just opening the door, but the sentiment stays the same.

Now that his plans of just ignoring Michael again have been fruitless because it feels like Michael has started to invade his very being, he itches to push it even further.

It angers him that Michael invades his space and he isn't allowed in his without fearing for his life.

He wants to show Michael that he also has merit in this world, that he is just as strong and not something to play with.

After an especially bad trial, he's really pissed off as he walks towards his house and Michael is standing at his window again, just staring, as usual. It just makes him madder, that stupid stoic face, the same shit over and over.

The feeling of being weak and scared. Now he's just angry.

He takes a sharp turn to the right and enters Michael's house nonchalantly.

Last time he died, so what. He can't die  _die_ . 

Danny storms up the steps, boots loud even on the carpet.

He turns and Michael is already standing there, like a giant, filling out the hallway.

For once his fingers look relaxed around the handle of the kitchen knife and it feels like mockery to Danny.

He grinds his teeth and takes a threatening step forward. Without much care, he unsheathes his own knife and walks up to Michael purposefully.

The bastard is still relaxed, no tense muscle and knife dangling between his fingers. The body language portrays the same feeling a mocking grin would.

A few more swift steps and Danny swings his knife, aiming for Michael's side.

There's a movement so fast he can barely register it before his wrist is trapped in a bone-crushing grip. The knife's sharp tip is just inches from Michael's side, but he hasn't even moved his body to dodge the attack.

Danny struggles angrily, tries to get his knife to pierce flesh, make him bleed. The blade catches on fabric and rips an uneven cut into the coverall.

Michael hums, the first sound Danny has ever heard from him and he's stunned enough that he doesn't move for a second. That seems enough for Michael who just twirls him around by the arm and twists his arm behind his back.

It's painful and almost dislocates his shoulder. Danny only hears a low thudding sound as his knife falls to the ground and his face is smashed against the wall.

Michael is pressing against his back, the kitchen knife's edge pressing to his side threateningly.

Maybe he has thought about Michael palming his erection over his dying body too much, but the reaction Danny has to this is definitely not appropriate.

He can barely contain the groan that's stuck in his throat as Michael grabs his other arm and holds both of his wrists together with one large hand. God, he's so big.

He actually forgets to fight this at all and just melts into the wall for a moment, hindbrain working in overdrive.

His brain comes back online as Michael steps back and doesn't pin him against the wall with his whole body-weight anymore. He struggles against the iron grip and strains his neck to look at the other. He manages to look at his neck at most, while the knife digs into his side a little more forcefully, but not cutting him through his clothes.

'Shit. Okay, I'm sorry.' He's out of breath from twisting and trying to free himself. 'Let me go.'

He can't even hear Michael breathe. A pull on his arms and against his back direct him into the master bedroom again, just where he had died last time.

Michael leads him to the bed and shoves hard. Danny falls to his knees, his head bangs against the bed frame painfully and makes him dizzy for the few precious moments Michael needs to effectively tie him to the bedpost with a familiar-looking rope.

He pulls on the bonds, knows the material won't give because those are his ropes and one of the few things he was allowed to keep from before.

Was Michael a boy-scout or something?

The knots are just pulling tighter and his wrists are rubbing raw.

He turns his body as much as possible and his eyes are level with Michael's crotch. It feels almost like disappointment to discover he's not as affected as Danny is.

Michael leans forward, one hand grips the bottom of his mask and there is no way to stop him as he pulls it up and throws it on the bed.

Danny scowls and turns back around, looks at his knees and bound hands with his head hanging.

His traitorous dick is still tenting his sweatpants but at least Michael can't see that.

'What the fuck do you want from me?' There is no reaction whatsoever and he twists around to discover that Michael just left him alone in there.

It's been hours and it's impossible to find an even halfway comfortable position. His shoulders and knees are hurting and he's thinking about just lying down on his front. The most vulnerable way to present himself.

He scoots back with his knees and leans on his elbows, forehead pressed against the thick cream-colored carpet. It's dusty, but he's able to take some strain off of his shoulders.

Hopefully, Michael hasn't just forgotten about him, chained like a dog.

At some point, the entity will force him into a trial, but he knows that she tolerates what feels like days of them just refusing to go, so it will be a long long time if Michael doesn't let him go.

Still, he's above calling for him for now.

His mind wanders back to the boyfriend in the picture and little Michael's face. He thinks about Judith's death and the apparent lack of motive.

So far he hasn't allowed himself to think in that direction, but what if Michael had  _liked_ Judith's boyfriend and killed her for it?

It's far-fetched but Michael has displayed some weird behavior since he had discovered Danny in his house and subsequently killed him.

Never before had he left his window to do anything just to appear in Danny's room, leave him a picture of himself and watch him.

Now he has tied Danny up in his mother's bedroom, just to leave him there.

It doesn't make sense, but it's obvious that something about Danny has woken some fascination within him or he would be dead already.

Breathing in decades of dust from the carpet and sitting in an uncomfortable position like he's been praying for hours is making him agitated again.

Just waiting for something to happen without knowing what it will be is making his skin crawl and he feels exposed and vulnerable without his mask and tied up as it is.

So he starts trying to open the knot on his wrists with his teeth, swearing under his breath.

He gives up and thumps his forehead against the carpet angrily.

Suddenly he feels like he's being watched again and moves to look at the doorway.

Michael is standing directly behind him and through the still persistent anger, he feels a rush of relief that he doesn't have to sit here for days to be released.

Michael is stepping even closer and Danny watches with narrowed eyes. Then the man kneels down next to him and lifts his hand to pet over Danny's hair, runs his fingers through the strands.

At first, Danny is perplexed, bewildered by the gesture.

Then he shakes his head, tries to get his hand off. He won't let anyone pet him like a dog without a fight.

Michael's fingers tighten in his hair, pull his head back so he isn't able to move at all. He watches him from the corner of his eyes, glaring angrily. Michael's other hand starts caressing his face, over his brow and his cheek.

What the actual fuck is happening?

The hand on his face is so large that just the palm could cover most of his face without a problem, but the caress is surprisingly gentle and it makes him feel a little fuzzy inside.

As soon as the hand traces his lower lip he opens up, licks over the pad and as soon as Michael's finger presses against his tongue behind his teeth he bites.

Michael hisses and pulls his hand back, fingers tighten in Danny's hair as he laughs.

The hand wanders from his hair to his neck and pushes him down, face against the carpet. Danny's laugh ends in coughing as he breathes in the dust.

'Fuck you, Michael.' He coughs and is pressed down a little harder. Michael is getting behind him and drapes over his back, growling aggressively like a wild animal.

Then he hears latex being moved, can see the infamous mask fall next to his face.

Michael really took his mask off, because of him. Because of Danny.

He's trying to screw his eyes so he can look at his face, but it's impossible from this angle. Then he feels sharp teeth against his neck, low raspy voice humming in content as he bites bruises into Danny's skin.

Arousal runs hot through Danny's veins as he begins to suck on the side of his neck, drawing the blood to the surface.

He groans, digs his nails into the carpet.

How is he supposed to suppress this feeling at all?

He has to pull himself together before Michael notices what this does to him. He feels Michael lay more of his body on Danny's back, making his knees press into the floor painfully with the combined weight.

He bites his tongue to keep from making any sort of noise. Michael doesn't hold back; he hums and groans as he bites and licks at Danny's skin.

His skin must look awful by now as Michael leans back and pulls his cloak up from the bottom, right over his head so he's bathed in darkness and no chance of seeing Michael's face at all.

At least he's free to draw his brows together and whimper quietly without any audience.

Michael's hands are wandering over his waist and hips and Danny shudders. He's painfully hard and being touched like he isn't even here. Strong hands draw his hips up so he's still leaning on his elbows and knees but with his ass up.

The position is humiliating, especially with Michael staring at him so intensely that he can feel it prickle on his skin. He can feel himself leaking precum and digs his nails into his palms.

He is not weak, he shouldn't like being this exposed and subdued.

But his body fucking loves it and as Michael presses against him, hard length against his ass he groans and flushes with embarrassment. This shouldn't turn him on as much as it does.

He still had some grasp on himself and doesn't grind back like he's begging for it, but it's not easy. He hears the zipper of the coveralls and then he feels Michael's bare dick on his ass and low on his back.

It feels like he's huge, like the rest of him and Danny thumps his head against the floor, eyes screwed shut.

Michael is grinding against his still clothed backside, gripping one hand against his hip, the other digging into his ass. He can feel himself twitch against his sweatpants every time Michael groans low and rumbling from his chest.

Danny wishes he would just touch him a little bit, it's painful not getting any relief, but Michael is just doing his own thing, like he's just a doll to play with.

Fuck, he can't even touch himself or get any friction anywhere with Michael holding him up like this. What he would do for his hips flush against the carpet right now.

Michael's movements are getting more frantic and Danny mewls, hands trying to get a hold on the cheap fibers and dick aching as he rocks into him.

The other leans over him again, groans right next to his ear and Danny is right there with him, moaning, hips pushing back without conscious thought.

Michael's hips stutter and Danny can feel him coming on his back, hot liquid running down his side.

'Fuck. Please please please.' He mutters, hips twitching against nothing as Michael lifts himself up. God, he's so fucking close, he needs to come so bad.

'Let me come. Please. Just..' He feels like crying and Michael isn't moving to get him off or anything.

Danny lays his sweaty forehead against the carpet and tries to take a few calming breaths. It's not that it's making him want to come any less, but his mind calms a little and he doesn't start crying, relaxes his fingers.

He's starting to relax as he feels a hot tongue against the now cool cum on his back, lapping in broad strokes.

'Fuck me.' He's right back in that head-space. 'This is torture.' His hips twitch, pants just sticking to him, giving him nothing. Then Michael is back against him, just as hard as before, starting to grind against him again.

A big hand goes halfway around his waist and long fingers are just inches from where he needs them. He tries to shift himself so they brush against his erection, which would probably be enough to get him off right now. But the hands are holding onto him tight, not letting him move at all and Michael is back to just using him.

Danny sobs, moves his ass back. Maybe he could cum if Michael would just fuck him. Things work like that, even if he's usually on the other end of the deal, hot arousal pools in his belly at the thought of being spread open by that huge dick.

'Fuck me.' He pulls at the restrains frantically, hopes in vain they will break. 'Please fuck me, Michael.' Talking without thinking isn't something he usually does, but the words just fall from his mouth and it seems to have some kind of effect because the other killer slows down and stops completely.

Michael kindly pushes the cloak back so he can breathe a little easier and then he moves into his field of view.

He's a lot prettier than Danny thought he would be. Pale skin and pale blue eyes, dark locks falling over his forehead and his cheeks are flushed, pupils blown.

His lips are pink and he has a slight stubble. He looks older than 21, definitely in his 30s; but he's almost too pretty to be this violent.

He tilts his head to the side in question as Danny stares. Again he pulls at the ropes and shifts to spread his knees a little, the minimal friction against his dick almost makes him buckle and fall down. He moans and closes his eyes for a second.

It's not normal that it feels this good from barely anything.

'Common fuck me.' He eyes Michael in challenge and wiggles his hips a little, rubbing against Michael who sighs. As he doesn't move Danny groans in frustration.

'Michael I really really  _need_ to cum.' Just the thought is enough to make him impatient again. Still, there is no movement from the other except a gentle grinding against Danny's ass and a subtle head tilt. 

He doesn't know what he's supposed to do or what Danny wants and it clicks into place for Danny.

Just typical for him to get horny for the aggressive virgin. He shakes his hands and looks at the too pretty Michael.

'Untie me and I'll show you how.' He has no more patience to be persuasive.

Michael seems to mull it over for a minute, then he leans forward and cuts Danny's precious ropes with his knife he got from somewhere.

Danny pulls his hands free and rubs his wrists to get the blood flow back. The skin is raw and pink where the had struggled against the ropes.

He sits up, turns around and shoves his sweatpants down to mid-thigh. He gingerly takes himself in hand, just holding himself carefully. The relief he feels at the first touch is almost painful and he takes a shuddering breath and exhales it with a soft moan.

He strokes slowly, carefully twice because it feels too good, especially with Michael following the movement of his fingers with hawk eyes. His hips twitch into his fingers and he groans, takes his hand away to quench any temptation.

Now that he has partially come to terms with what he wants he can't accept coming by just his own hand.

He lies back down, looking up at Michael that it stroking his dick, eyes glued to Danny's erection.

He twitches, precum rolls down his shaft and he has to close his eyes as he sucks two fingers into his mouth, licks around them.

Voyeurism is in his very nature and he just can't watch Michael jerk himself like that right now, it makes his control slip.

He brings his hand down, nothing he hasn't done before and moves past his balls. Before he really gets into it he scoots further back so he can lean against the bed frame for a better position.

Then he slowly sinks the first finger into himself. It's not really a stretch yet but feels foreign.

Michael's eyes are burning into him even with his eyes closed and he can hear the slick sound of his hand stroking himself.

He pushes a second finger into himself and flinches as he suddenly feels a hand on his thigh pushing his leg up. Of course, he opens his eyes in reflex and Michael is looking at his fingers, stretching himself open.

Even if he doesn't really know anything about this he seems to enjoy this because he's breathing heavily. This is too hot, Danny keens, tries to crook his fingers just so but he can't get the right angle like this, barely brushes his prostate. It makes his muscles clench and his head falls back.

He watches Michael through half-lidded eyes, enjoys the burn of a third finger after he applies more spit.

He tries to assess if he needs one finger more before he's ready for the real thing and decides it can't hurt after he hasn't done this in an eternity.

Michael groans as he adds another finger and it's an awkward angle, barely working him open any further, so he sinks back and jerks himself a few seconds while he decides on a position.

Michael hasn't been so inclined to touch him at all besides his holding him so he wants a position where he can touch himself.

By now he's leaking a small puddle onto himself and he feels empty, so he leans back against the bedframe and spreads his knees over Michael's massive thighs. He's so big, muscles straining under his skin and it makes Danny want him inside right away.

His skin scrapes over the open zipper of the coverall as he sits up once more and grabs Michael's dick. His skin is pale and velvety soft. Danny leans over it, lets spit drip down to spread it with his hand. Michael's thighs are quivering as he strokes him gently.

Then he leans back again and guides him to where he is stretched and pliant. Michael's eyes go big and glassy as he pushes in surprisingly carefully.

It's still a stretch and it burns but it feels good as he bottoms out. Michael hangs his head, looks at where they are joined.

Danny popped his cherry that easily, no big deal.

He moves against Michael a little, grinds them together and he understands quickly how good it feels to move.

Suddenly he pulls out and thrusts back in hard. It makes Danny see stars, hitting just right and he holds onto the sturdy bed frame next to his head to not fall over from the brutal onslaught.

As expected Michael is chasing his own pleasure again; his eyes darting between where he is ruthlessly fucking into Danny and up his body to his face.

Danny squirms and moans, can't touch himself or the carpet burn he can already feel on his back will get even worse. Michael pulls him further onto his lap, holds onto his thighs and buries himself to the hilt, eyes closed in pleasure and groaning.

Danny moans helplessly tries to grind down to tip himself over but Michael's grip is so hard it'll leave finger-shaped bruises all over his skin; impossible to move.

Then he feels him twitch inside and grind into him, just shy of where he needs it. Fuck Michael is coming again and Danny feels even needier than before.

Now Michael is going to pull out and just leave him here, maybe even tie him to the bed again. He's not going to relieve the painfully hard ache and this is all new but it turns Danny on even more.

He can feel Michael pull out slowly and to add to this utter humiliation his lower lip begins to wobble and his eyes tear up.

He going to cry because he can't cum. He shuts his eyes, feels how hot his face is in embarrassment and the tears running down.

He pushes his lower body towards Michael, doesn't want him to leave him here like this. And as he pushes forward he hears Michael grunt, feels his still very hard erection slam back into him.

He groans brokenly and pushes back, tries to angle his hips the right way but Michael won't let him.

Danny already feels sore and like he should have come three times over, so he gives in and takes one hand from the bed frame and finally touches himself. 

He can barely keep his hand up there and Michael from slamming his head against the wooden frame, but it's worth it.

The first few strokes are painful, but his hand is slick with precum as he keeps going. The pleasure underneath is mind-numbing and he's begging and words he doesn't understand fall out of his mouth at the combination of Michael thrusting into him hard and the sweet relief of touching himself.

Suddenly Michael leans over, the black soft shirt brushes against the tip of Danny's erection just as he hits his prostate dead on and Danny is coming. His eyes roll back and pleasure burns through his whole body as he makes a mess of himself and Michael. He can feel himself shaking, cum running over his fingers and just feeling so good it shouldn't be possible.

He strokes himself through it, knuckles bumping against Michael's rock hard abs. The other is looking at him with big eyes again, pupils so blown he can barely see the light blue of his irises.

He moves his hips erratically a few more times, sparks of pleasure shooting up Danny's spine as he keeps the perfect angle and then he slumps forward, forehead against Danny's chest as he comes again.

Danny leans back, gets ready to relax his cramped muscles and just bathe in the afterglow. He lets go of the bedframe and leans his head back, the angle uncomfortable.

His eyes are starting to slip shut and a nap sounds about perfect right now, he's so exhausted.

He winces a little as Michael pulls out and he tries to close his legs, doesn't need an inspection down there.

Then his world tilts suddenly and he's back on his knees, ass up and he can feel the cum run down his thigh with his face mushed back into the carpet.

'What..?' His voice sounds raspy and abused and he doesn't get any further, feels Michael back at his entrance, still hard as if he hadn't come three times already.

He leisurely pushes back in, fucks his own cum back into Danny. The only place to hold on to is the bedpost as Michael fucks into him again, gentle at first but it feels so much deeper like this and Danny groans into his arm.

What has he gotten himself into?

Tears are leaking into the fabric of his cloak and he really starts crying when Michael finally reaches around him and starts caressing his half-hard erection.

It's entirely too much and he tries to squirm away but the hand is insistent, jerking him off with the thrusts and he's fully hard again in no time.

He barely has the chance to enjoy the rather soft pace before Michael picks up again, biting and licking at his sweaty neck again.

The pain that blossoms from the sharp teeth dulls some of the over-stimulation and Danny welcomes it, just goes with the flow. He pushes back into Michael's hard thrusts with the much better leverage he has on his knees.

The buildup to his second orgasm is much more straight forward, but no less intense. This time he can really feel how he's slowly inching closer. The hand stroking him is so big it makes him feel too small as does the body draped over his back.

He can feel every sensation, the barely existing stretch as Michael pushes deep into him, his fingers slick on his skin and the soft shirt against his back.

Danny pants and moans as Michael fucks into him just how he needs it, but he's getting more erratic before Danny is close enough to come again himself.

Long fingers tighten around his waist as he snaps his hips forward and Danny has to tense his muscles to keep from sliding forward.

Michael groans, thrusts sloppy and uncoordinated and he comes again sighing happily. This time he doesn't stop, just keeps going and Danny moans, pushes back.

He can feel Michael coming, twitching inside him and there's a lot of things he's learned about himself today, that he likes feeling that is one of them.

The fingers around his erection tighten as Michael picks up the pace again and Danny is much closer than he thought. He feels the heat building up in his lower belly, coiling tight.

There is no waiting or teasing this time, Michael just strokes faster as he feels Danny tense up and he comes again. White-hot pleasure, even more intense than the first time as he clenches around Michael, whole body seizing up.

It feels like he doesn't stop coming, waves of pleasure just keep going as Michael keeps fucking him and his vision blacks out as it becomes too much.

As he comes to Michael is draped half over him, half next to him on the now even filthier carpet. Danny feels sore all over, open and sloppy and he's pretty sure he leaking cum.

He doesn't know how long he's been out, but it doesn't feel like it was too long.

Michael is looking at him and Danny tells himself it's a little concerned.

Calloused fingers are caressing his face and Danny sighs, just lets himself enjoy this for the time being.

Michael hums, runs a hand through Danny's damp hair and in the next moment he's moving, but Danny can't be bothered to open his eyes again.

He's being lifted and laid onto sheets gentle enough. This bed really is just as soft and comfortable as he has imagined.

The bed dips next to him and before he knows it he's engulfed by strong warm arms, legs tangled with his and he can't be bothered to do anything about it.

In fact, it feels pretty much perfect with how utterly exhausted and sore he feels. He deserves to just lie here, being cuddled and sleep forever.

After all, he has worked hard to finally see this side of Michael.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I wrecked Danny enough for you ♥


End file.
